Vampire Lacour's 2nd Coming

Emile watched them from the shadows in the pale moonlight. He had driven the limo slowly and sedately up St. Charles Street in New Orleans' fashionable Garden District, past majestic Second Empire Victorian houses. He looked for addresses as he glided down the tree-lined street in the dark of the night and eventually found the one he sought. Following the deeper shadows, he had moved around to the rear garden of the house to where he could see the moonlight dancing on the surface of a swimming pool.

The young man was the first one he saw—very young, probably barely legal. He was stretched out on a lounge, his arms folded behind his head. A lithe body, a swimmer's body. Full chest, developed by long training of holding his breath under the water. Long torso down to slim waist, and well-developed leg muscles. He was dark and tanned, and naked in the moonlight. A cock that wasn't especially long, but was slender to match the sleekness of the rest of his body.

Emile felt drawn to him. This was worth the trip in itself. He had hoped there would be a tasty snack like this in the enterprise. Emile started to move out of the shadows, but then he heard the splashing of water, as another, older man rose out of the water and walked over the lounge and sat down next to the younger man. The older man was a little paunchy and his legs were a bit spindly, but he was well kept for his age, and he had a nice long and thick dong dangling between his legs. Who would have know that Lamont Breaux would be so nicely endowed?

Breaux leaned down and kissed the younger man, letting his hand roam down that long, lithe torso to end up encircling and stroking the younger man's cock. The younger man gave a little laugh after the kiss was completed and threw his arms around Breaux's neck and brought the older man's lips down to his nipples. Breaux played there for a while and then moved his lips on down across the younger man's belly and his cock, giving him gentle suck.

Emile twitched in the shadows. So this was what the Fontnet money was paying for. Emile could almost admire Breaux now. At least he had good taste. Emile flipped his black silk cape open and ran his long slender figures over his naked chest. Not a younger man's chest, but in reasonably good form, and not nearly as paunchy or as old as the man sucking off the young boy toy. A hand went to his cock, hanging free from black leather pants without a crotch. He was at eleven inches, Just over half of what he could be after a good feeding. It made him angry to see the Breaux making love to this delightful young man. It not longer was amusing that this was what Emile was being fleeced for.

Breaux was kneeling below the lounge now. His mouth had moved from the young man's cock to his hole. The young man had pulled his legs up and out and was digging his heels in the edges of the lounge. His ass was being rimmed and tongued with great slurping noises, as he languidly masturbated himself. After several moments of that, Breaux stood and knelt on the foot of the lounge. With his left hand, he raised the younger man's right leg up and out, while his right hand was helping him to insert his hardened cock in the younger man's hole. When he'd gotten position there, his right hand came out and lifted the younger man's left leg up and out.

The younger man laughed and was voicing encouragement to Breaux. "Yes, yes, split me. Stick it all up there. Fuck me. God, I love your dick up my ass. Deeper. Harder! Oh, Baby, you're the best." All of the encouraging expressions to keep your sugar daddy on the leash. He brought his chest up, wrapped his arms around his rich old lover's neck and went into deep kissing mode.

Emile pulled in closer, knowing they wouldn't notice him. Watching, waiting for the moment.

The younger man flopped back down on the lounge and writhed his torso about, moaning. "Oh, Baby, you're so deep. You're killing me. Nobody's got the cock you have. Pump me. Give it to me." He closed his eyes and threw an arm over his face.

This greatly excited Breaux, who was about to blow. He stood up on his feet now, giving himself more leverage. Emile watched Breaux, gauging him, timing him.

The lawyer pulled his cock out of the younger man's ass, preparing to shoot his load on the younger man's stomach. But Emile had timed himself well. Quick as a flash, he came up from behind Breaux's ass, held the man's thighs in position with his hand, and had his mouth on the cock when it ejaculated, sending all of Breaux's semen down his throat. To a being like Emile, this was the ultimate sign of domination. No matter what else he did to Breaux now, Emile had mastered him.

Breaux was too shocked to do or say anything in time, and the younger man, his eyes shut and his arm flung over his face and most probably bored to distraction, had no idea anything was wrong.

Emile flipped back around, pushed Breaux on top of the younger man, pinning the younger man under two bodies. He slammed his semi-hard, eleven inches of dick into Breaux's ass, and stretched up, catching the left side of the older man's neck in his teeth, sinking into the carotid artery, and sucking hard.

He stopped briefly, but only briefly, before Breaux was spent, to whisper in his ear. "And how do you like being fucked? Still think you are going to fuck around with me?"

The older man became dead weight as the sedating venom of Emile's saliva mixed with the blood in the man's veins and immobilized him. Emile's dick hardened, lengthened and thickened in response to the semen Emile had imbibed and the blood he was sucking. The transformation was slow, because Breaux wasn't young, but any capture of vital body fluids was a fine snack for Emile. Emile's cock quickly shredded the aging tissue of Breaux's anal canal, and he was ruptured and his life blood and fluids were draining out of him, bathing Emile's cock and balls, within moments.

The younger man, under all of this weight was screaming and pushing, but getting nowhere. His mouth was open wide in his expressions of displeasure, and Emile took his mouth from the side of Breaux's neck and brutally pushed his lips and tongue in the younger man's mouth, swabbing his mouth with his venom-laden saliva.

When the younger man had quieted down, Emile stood up, lifted the body Breaux, and discarded it off to the side. Then he sat back down straddling the lounge, his thighs under the buttocks of the younger man, tilting the man's pelvis up to him. Emile's twelve-incher flopped down on the younger man's groin.

The younger man was still showing concern in his eyes, but he lay quite still, watching what was happening, fearing the worst, but not know really what the worst was.

Where to begin? Where to begin?

First thing, was that eight inches of Emile's cock, about where Breaux had left off in his own fucking of the boy toy, went up the younger man's ass canal. A good four inches were left outside, in waiting. The younger man's cock began to harden again in response.

Emile wound his left arm under the small of the younger man's back and raised him a bit. This brought the man's left arm up so that Emile could grasp it and bury his face in the crook of the arm. His lips felt for the throb of a major vein, and he sank his teeth into it and drank. The young man watched him in silence, only his eyes showing any sign of response.

When that vein collapsed, Emile moved to each nipple, in turn, and dug his teeth in around the aureole and suckled as much as much blood out of those as he could get. Both he and the young man were moaning and sighing quietly. The young man's eyes were not as clouded now. He seemed to recognize now that Emile was making ultimate love to him. Far better love than his old sugar daddy could give him. And Emile was turning into a young, handsome, cut, stud before the young man's eyes. And his cock. That monster cock. The young man could certainly feel that this was the fuck of his life. As Emile transferred the young man's strength and virility, his cock had thickened and lengthened so that there were ten inches in the young man, with four still in reserve.

Emile laid the young man back down and then stroked the man's cock to the point of ejaculation. At that point, Emile lifted the young man's pelvis to his mouth, pulling his cock out of the man in the process, and just drank in the semen the young man produced. Emile skewered him again, rising to eleven and a half inches, with the same four inches still in reserve. He pumped at that level momentarily, causing the young man to moan for more of it. And then Emile gave him more of it. Thirteen inches in and the young man's eyes were beginning to dim. His body involuntarily jerked at fourteen inches, and blood began to flow over Emile's encased cock. As Emile took the young man's lips in his for one final kiss, he pressed a strong hand at the base of the young man's tail bone and pulled his disintegrating ass canal toward him, taking in the four inch slack and two more inches the cock had grown in appreciation of the blood bath and shot his seed deep inside the swimmer's lithe body.

When all was quiet, and the vital body fluids had stopped flowing, and Emile's heart had stopped racing, he withdrew from the young man and stood. He stripped off his cape and the leather pants, dove neatly into the pool, and quickly worked off twenty laps of championship-form breaststroke. He'd never learned to swim.

He said nothing at all to the chauffeur when he returned home, but as the days went by and there were no further appearances by or word from Lamont Breaux, the chauffeur showed increasing signs of nervousness—and of fawning service to Emile.